New York dispatch. [volume], February 06, 1887, Page 7, Image 7

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NOVEM B E R.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
(From the Atlantic Magazine.)
Talk not of sad November, when a day
Of warm clad suushiu-i fills the sky of noon.
And a wind, borrowed from some morn of June,
Stirs the brown grasses and the leafless spray.
On the unfrosted pool tho pillared pines
Bay their long shafts of shadow; the small nu,
Singing a pleasant song of Summer still,
A line of silver, down the biH-slope shines.
Hashed the bird-voiess and the hum of bees,
In the thin grass the crickets pipe no more;
But still the squirrel boards his Winter store.
And drops his nut-shells from the shagbark trees.
Softly the dark green hemlocks whisper; high
Above, the spires of yellowing larches show,
Where the woodpecker and home-loving crow
And jay and nut-batch Winter’s threat defy.
<9 gracious beauty, ever new and old !
Q pights and sounds of nature, doubly dear
When the low sunshine warns the closing year
Of snow-blown fields and waves of Arctic told !
Qpso to my heart I fold each lovely thing
The sweet day yields; and, not disconsolate.
With the calm patience of the woods I wait
For leaf and blossom when God gives us Spring !
TRACKIXO A BURGLAR.
BY AN ENGLISH EX-DETECTIVE.
CHAPTER I.
THE BUIKILABY AT HIGHGATE.
Burglary and attempted murder I That was
the charge. The burglar had escaped, and the
task of capturing him was given to me. It did
not prove such a hard task as I expected it to
be when I had heard only the first report, but
it was enough to try a man’s nerve before all
was over. w
“ There’s not much to go upon, Crinly, said
tho chief of our department, when he was put
ting me upon tho case. “You must go out
there, and 1 have no doubt you’ll make some
thing of the matter.”
That was a compliment, and it was very pleas
ant to hear it from the chief, and I immediately
went “ out there.”
The house was in a very retired road at High
gate. When the door was opened to me, I ask
ed to see Mr. Bowles, and that gentleman made
liis appearance in a very short time.
I had only to intro luce myself as Mr. Crinly,
detective, called to make inquiries concerning
the robbery and tho murderous assault, to in
euro a very cordial reception.
“The rascal has not le t even a footmark be
hind to trace him by I” exclaimed tho injured
Mr. Bowles soon alter he had conducted me in
to tho parlor.
“ Mon who follow such lines of business sel
dom do,” I said. “ But perhaps I shall be able
to trace some of the stolen property. If Ido
that, I dare say I con run down tho thief. Let
me see the place where you were attacked,
please.”
I waS’Conducted up the stairs and into a pas
sage or lobby which ran from the back of the
house to a door leading into a front bedroom.
There was a door on each side of this passage,
each giving admittance to another bedroom.
Tvrosmtvlloi- doors belonged to closets, in which
a variety of things, not in immediate use, were
deposited from time to time.
“ This is where I caught the villain,** said Mr.
Bowles, planting hie foot firmly on the carpet
aear one of the bedroom doors. “This is my
bedroom, you see,” he continued. “I retired
lor the night about eleven o’clock, but I had not
gone to bed. I put on a dressing-gown and sal
down to write a couple of letters. I thought I
might come home and smoke a pipe with Mr.
Ainger if he should come home before I had
lain down. Welt, I wrote my letters, and I was
sitting near the fire thinking of friends in Aus
tralia, and one thing and another,when I heard
a sound out here that drew my attention. I lis
tened intently a few seconds, when I distinctly
heard a low, rustling noise, that appeared to
come from that closet, in which my boxes are
laid. I got up then, and going to the door
lightly I suddenly threw it open. There stood
the oloset door wide open, and a big fellow on
his knees, with a small dark lantern on a box
beside him, busily turning out the contents of
a leather trunk in which 1 had a large sum of
money, and several gold and silver nicknacks
. <of some value.”
“ Did you not seize him while you had such
an opportunity ?•’ I asked.
“I seized him. sir, but I missed the oppor
tunity while he was kneeling,” he replied, as if
the recollection made him angry with himself.
“The moment I threw the door open the villain
sprang to his feet like a flash. I gave a shout
and attempted to grapple with him, when he
actually threw himself into my arms. But I
soon found I could not keep him there without
a struggle. He is a big, powerful fellow. He
tried to throw me, but 1 have learned enough of
rough wrestling to be able to hold my ground
pretty well. Our struggling made enough noise
to awaken everybody in the house. I heard the
front door bang loudly; Mrs. Ainger—my sister,
sir—ran from her room screaming, and met her
husband at the top of the stairs. Then the fel
low loosed hie hold of me, and, as quick as
thought, a great sheath-knife like a dagger
flashed before my eyes. The robber stabbed at
my face, but I was quick enough to avoid the
blow, and the point of the weapon sank deep
into the frame of the door behind me. Thers is
the hole it made.”
As he spoke the last words ho pointed to a
deep, broad gash in the wood, which only a blow
Of great force could make.
‘•Did not the assistance of Mr. Ainger enable
you to overpower the man ?” I asked.
“No, sir. If we had overpowered him, I
should not want your assistance in finding him.
I was much more overpowered. The fellow
wrenched himself away before Ainger could
reach us. He sprang along the passage and
down the stairs in about two strides, and was
out through the window of the back kitchen and
lost sight in less time than I require to tell you
fio. Mr. Ainger found a policeman and told him;
then he went off to the station, which is a pretty
long step from this place, and when he came
back I was busy examining my trunk and find
ing out what I had lost. I had a lantern, a
screw-driver and a pocket knife left in place of
more than a hundred pounds in sovereigns and
notes, and a black leather case that contained a
watch, two diamond rings, and some gold orna
ments for a watch chain. A few other things of
less value wore taken too.”
“Are all who were in the house last night at
homo now ?” I asked, when Mr. Bowles had con
cluded the story of his adventure.
“I suppose all are in the house except one—
and you know I wish I had him here just now,”
he replied, accompanying the latter words with
a grim smile.
I told him I desired to see only the servants
who slept in the bouse. I did not wish that any
alarm should be excited among them, as if they
were suspected. They might be called, together
or separately, while be showed mo the way by
which the robber had escaped. Mr. Bowles at
first protested that neither of the girls in the
house could knew so much about the affair as
he did, but consented to speak to Mrs. Ainger
ou the point, who settled the matter as 1 de
sired.
My walk through the house, from the bedroom
floor to tho back kitchen, produced no addition
to my knowledge. I looked over the little kitch
en garden, on which the window opened, but
without making any useful discovery.
The wall at tne end of the garden was nearly
eight feet in hight. There was a door in it which
opened on a narrow lane formed by nothing but
garden walls ou both sides through its entire
length.
“Did tbe burglar escape by that door?” I
asked.
*• No, sir. The door was bolted when we came
to it. He must have scaled the wail.”
“ But tho wall is high for a big, heavy-bodied
man to scale so quickly ?” I said.
“ Yes, he was big, and he must have been as
supple as a monkey. But that is the only way
by which he can have gone,” replied Mr
Bowles, confidently.
“ It is odd, and hardly to be credited,” I
said, “ but we must accept tbe fact, it seems.”
While in the garden, and speaking of the
burglar, I bad secretly, but very closely,
scanned tho face of the housemaid who was
with us. She was tall, and decidedly pretty,
while in her form and face there was an air of
intelligence and refinement greater than is to be
found in all girls of her class.
But there was also a pained and troubled ex
pression on her features. That might be set
down to a number of causes wholly foreign to
the business I was then engaged in, but it ex
cited my curiosity not the less. When Mr.
Bowles mentioned the size and agility of the
robber who had escaped on the preceding
night. I noticed that the troubled expression ot
her face became deepened. Why was that?
Detectives are accused ot hastily arriving at
conclusions, and I at once suspected very
strongly tint there was some kind of connec
tion between the robber and the thoughts then
current in her mind.
Our inspection ot the garden being finished, I
intimated to Mr. Bowles that I wished to press
my inquiries further with the housemaid and
her fellow-servant.
“ I suppose you must do what you think nec
essary to forward the ends of justice,” he said
■“ but I must ask you to be careful in your
questioning. The young lady you call house
maid is really the friend and companion of my
sister, though she fills a servant’s place. She
stands even higher in my opinion than in »y
sister’s, and I would rather my money should
be lost and the thief go free than that her feel
‘ugs should be hurt in connection with the mat-
I satisfied Mr. Bowles that I know the proper
deference that should be shown to a young
lady, whereupon he left me to use my discre
tion.
Tho young lady in question did not trv to
avoid the interview I desired. A lew leading
questions elicited all the information she could
rive, but her story was so intorostiug and so
Important to me iu its bearing on tho case, that
1 must give the substance of it hero as briefly
is I can.
“I did look troubled when I heard the rob
,,’ r . wa ? a bl « and powerful man, and I will tell
, ab ® aaid - "Two days ago a man
a P ed boro to see me. He is a big, powerful
almJrn ‘ know what 116 ma ? b ® doin « now,
nrnL m 6 I y ,® ar , a ago he bor ® a Tor* bad
h^! l ’<.i,? lr^ ewlea ’ a description ot the rob
ber brought him strongly to mind, and I
tliougfit k ® might possibly bo tho man ”
“Are you acquainted with this man?-do vou
know him intimately ?” 1 asked uo you
“Ch, no.” she replied shrinkingly. “Before
he called here I bad not seen him for more than
three years. Then he was a bad man. My
brother kept, his company, and they committed
some crime together., io-r wh ch my brother is
etill in prison. This man was the principal
offender, iam sure, but ho escapeed punish
ment.”
“ Why did he call upon you ?”
“1 don’t know why; and that has made me
most uneasy since the robbery last night. He
actually mentioned the rich Australian gentle
man who was staying in tho house. W hen 1
saw him I could not stand at the door spealnng
to such a man as I ’had known him to be. But
I did not send him away directly—l did not like
to make him angry, because ho might cause a
disturbance. When he said ho wanted a lew
words in private with me, I thought no had
some news of my brother, and I turned into the
little spare kitchen with him.”
“ ‘ I only called to see how you were getting
on, Mary,’ he said. ’Somehow, I’d been think
ing ot you as poor Tom Drew’s sister, and 1
thought I’d come. There’s no offense, I hope. 1
see you’ve grown a lady. I don’t suppose 111
never make a gentleman, you kxow, Mary; but
I’ve turned over a new leaf, and I’ll try to get
money till I grow as rich as that Australian
gent that’s living in the house now. It s prime
to work where they dig gold by the shovelful.
A little of that precious stuff would bo useful to
poor folks here—wouldn’t it, Mary ? And they d
still have plenty more than they could spend, 11
they did share a bit.’
• “Tho man touched me on the arm, and 1
shrank from him—for though he spoke pleas
antly, there was something in the half-leering
expression of his face that made me dislike and
fear him. I think he know that, because he be
came less familiar at once. He then began to
praise the house—so many floors, so many
rooms, and actually two sets of stairs ! Ho left
soon, to my great relief; but be had gained
some information about the house and the
people by his seemingly careless remarks and
indirect questions.”
“ What you have told me may be of great ser
vice, miss,” I said. “ I must ask you to give
me this strange fellow’s name.”
“I am sorry I cannot do that. 1 don t know
his name. I never heard it, that I can remem
ber,” she replied.
“ Well, that is unfortunate. But you say it is
about three years since he was implicated in
some crime for which your brother suffered ?
W’hat is your brother’s name ?’’
"James Drew,” she replied, in a low voice,
which made me think she did not like to speak
the tainted name aloud.
I thanked her, and immediately went to Mr.
Bowles, from whom I obtained a more particu
lar description of the several articles he had
lost, in addition to tho money.
CHAPTER 11.
HE WOULD NOT BET, BUT WAS BEATEN.
On re'oriing to a file of papers published
three years before the robbery at Highgate, I
learned that James Drew and Matthew Brown
had been charged with complicity in au exten
sive swindling fraud. James Drew had been
sentenced to five years’ penal servitude, but
Matthew Brown had been acquitted because
the evidence was not sufficiently clear against
him.
I did not doubt that this Matt Brown was the
man who had visited Mary Drew. He was a
big, powerful fellow, who was seldom to be
seen without a pleasant smile on his face, which
was genial and good-tempered enough to sug
gest that he would not hurt a child, and was
the last man likely to engage in desperate
orime. Yet he was known to be an offender
against tho law, though not by proceedings in
which the lives as well as the money of the
more Uw-abiding were placed in jeopardy.
Matt Brown was known to many members of
the force, and I was one of the number. But I
had no reason to think he knew me, simply be
cause my professional duties had not caused
me to appear very often in the localties where
he was best known. Ho was a sporting man in
his own way. He was an acknowledged au
thority on dog-fights and ratting-matehes. He
was learned in the pedigrees of racehorses,
and could so justly estimate the powers of each
on comparison of their past performances, that
he was said to make more money by judicious
betting than two or three ordinary men could
earn. Indeed, he found the hotting business so
lucrative that he had decided to “make a
book ”on his own account—that is, to lay ths
current rate of odds against each ot the horses
engaged in a race.
His patrons seldom invested more than a
shilling on the chance of any one horse, and
Matt would not give the odds against more than
five shillings in any single bet.
Matt’s acquaintances were very numerous.
They were very miscellaneous in chaaacter,
too, but consisted chiefly ot young novices in
wrong-doing, and those who were experienced
sinners and almost irreclaimably bad. We have
to mix with people ot very queer reputation at
times, and I lost no time in seeking tbe ac
' quaintaneo of Matt Brown.
A certain public house near’Drury Lane was
recognized as Matt’s headquarters between the
hours of twelve in the morning and four in the
afternoon. When he was not seen at the cor
ner outside, or at the public bar within, ho was
certain to bo found in the plain and sparely
furnished little smoke-room regaling himself
with a pipe and a glass of “ toddy.”
I dressed for tho occasion one day, and went
to the public house in question. I asked at the
bar whether I could see Mr. Brown, and the
potman stared me very searchingly a moment
or two before he spoke. My sedate appear
ance, with silk hat and umbrella, appeared to
puzzle him, but he slowly answered:
“ I daresay he’s in the smoking-room. Did
you say bitter, sir?” he added, seizing one of
the upright pump-handles and holding a glass
in readiness.
“ Not just now,” I said, turning to a door on
which the word “ Smoking ’’ was painted.
Matt Brown was the only person in the room
when I entered. Advancing, 1 took off my hat,
and bending a little, said:
“You are Mr. Brown, the bookmaker, I be
lieve ?”
“ I m Matt Brown, guvnor, right enough, but
I don’t see as how my bis’ness matters much to
a stranger.”
“ But it does to me, Mr. Brown. The fact is,
I want to do a little business in your line. I m
not a betting man, as a rule, but I want to back
Ribbon for the November Handicap. What
odds can you give against two pdunds ?”
The landlord appeared at this moment. I
saw his reflection in a glass over the mantel
piece a little to my right He was rubbing his
chin with his finger and thumb, and grinned at
Matt as if he would say, “He’s a fraud; have a
care!”
“ I can’t give no odds, guv’nor. You’d bet
ter go to the races and bet your money in the
ring. You’re too mighty respectable-lookin’,
with that stuffed umberel’an’all, to catch an
old bird with chaff,” and, leaning forward, he
laughed in away which told me very plainly
my plan had failed.
Of course I protested that Mr. Brown misun
derstood me. He only laughed the more, and
I left, expressing a hope that we should arrive
at a better understanding the next time I want
ed to do business with him.
Alter leaving the public house, I made my
way to High Holborn, and through Russell
Square and Guilford street into Gray s Inn
road. Near the latter thoroughfare there lived
a friend of mine, in whose house I deposited
my umbrella, my overcoat and silk hat, as I
had left other disguises on former occasions.
When I camo out ot the house I was considera
bly altered in appearance. Detectives know
pretty well how much the costumer hae to do
with deciding the genteel or the rough appear
ance ot the man.
During the evening I learned a great deal
about Matt Brown. I passed a few words with
the constables I found on duty in different lo
calities about Drury lane, and made inquiries
at Bow street police station. From all I
learned only that Mr. Brown gave the police
very little trouble, yet be was generally regard
ed as a thoroughly bad character. The’esti
mate appeared to be unreasonable when com
pared with the little direct evidence on which it
was based.
The next day I devoted to a tour among the
dealers in second-hand goods, who are rather
numerous m the locality. My purpose was to
find, if I could, any ot the articles -the “nick
nacks”—Mr. Bowles had lost. But mv search
was utterly fruitless. I set that down to the
fact that dealers do not immediately exhibit
goods they may have acquired under question
able circumstances.
In one place which I enteftd I found quite a
collection, of pipes, cigar-holders, cigar
cases, tobacco-boxes, and other articles that
are considered necessary in a smoker’s com
plete outfit. These goods were of all sizes, all
patterns, and nearly all colors. There was so
much variety, pattern, and material among
them that they appeared to have been collected
from a number of different countries, and to
have endured even more than tho average wear
and tear before reaching their present destina
tion.
There was some sameness among the cigar
cases only, and as I was specially interested in
cigar-cases 1 asked the grimy-looking proprietor
of the shop if he could show mo anytldng a little
more off the common. After some haggling, he
said he had a few more, and he brought them
to me from an inner room. One was a rough
looking affair, indeed. It was made of un
tanued skin, from which the hair had not been
removed. A rudely-formed silver medalion
was on the front, and tbe clasp was of silver. I
liked it as a curiosity, and bought it at a high
price, feeling satisfied that I had secured a bar
gain in the very ineligant-looking thing. In re
reply to my inquiry as to when he had bought
the article, the dealer replied he could not ex
aetly remember, but it had been in his posses
sion a long time.
I allowed lhe next day to pass while prose
cuting my inquiries. Among other things 1
learned that Malt Brown frequently stayed
from home until late at night or until the morn
ing had completed its earliest hours.
On the following day I called at tbe public
house near Drury lane' once more, and entered
the smoking-room, in which I found Matt alone
in his glory.
“ Well, Mr. Brown,” I said, “ will you do
business with me to-day ?”
“ Helio, guv nor !- is it you ?” he exclaimed.
"I’d hardly know you, now. You look more
like a bis’nese man, I must say, without your
long coat, an’ top hat, an’old woman's umbrella.
But 1 don’t think we can do that kind of busi
ness together, all the same. ’
“Well, I must say you’re a strange man ” 1
said. “ Can’t you make a bet with me just’ as
far as a sovereign ?”
“No. dear boy, it won’t do,” he said, raising
his hand as il to repel my proposal, while he
NEW YORK DISPATCH, FEBRUARY 6, 1887.
: loaned back in the chair and laughed aloud,
i “ I’m off bia’neas just now, guv’nor,” ho con
tinued, “and I can’t bet a shilling.”
“ Well, will you take a glass with me ? I
asked.
“ No, thank you all the same. I’ve got enough
hore,” he replied.
“ Well, a smoke ? I’ve got a nice cigar.’
“ You re such a pressin’ lellow, I don’t mind
if I do. I likes my pine, but I can always take
a cigar from a friend.”
I drew from my pocket the rough-looking
cigar-caso I had purchased two days earlier,
and put it in his hand.
Soon as his glance rested on the article, all
the hilarity vanished out of his face as if by
magic. Ho looked at it a few moments intently,
turning it over mechanically, and then looked
up at mo with au attempt to resume his habitual
smile, but with tho keenest questioning in his
eyes.
“ Thia is a curious thing,” he said.
“ Yes, you don’t soe many like that,” I re
plied. “it has had some wear, but you see it’s
good for service yet.”
“ Oh, ay, it’s good enough for many a year.
Did you make it yourself?—or whore did you
get it ?” he asked.
“ No, I didn’t make it. I bought it.”
“ Well, it’s not very pretty, but it’s useful,”
he remarked, handing it back to me.
“ But will you not try a cigar ?” I asked.
“ No, thanks ; I’ll stick to my pipe still.”
I lo.t the room almost immediately afterward;
but I had contrived to see Matt Brown a little
more at his ease.
I was now satisfied that the burglar at High
gate and Mat Brown were one. The cigar-case
was one of tbe articles of Australian manufac
ture which had been stolen from Mr. Bowles’s
trunk, and which ho had been particular in de
scribing, and the effect its appearance produced
on Mr. Brown fully established his guilt in my
mind.
A constable in plain clothes was waiting for
me outside. I gave him instructions to watch
tho public-house closely, and to follow Matt
Brown should he como out before I returned.
I procured from Bow street two men to secure
the man, of whoso guilt I felt assured, and in
leas than a quarter of an hour he was arrested
in tbe room and in the chair where I had left
him. , , ,
There rs nothing more to add. Brown s lodg
ings were searched, and nearly all the stolen
property, less fifteen sovereigns, was found
there. The man from whom 1 had bought tho
cigar-case failed to fully identify Brown as the
man from whom he had received it; but his
evidence was not essential. The big, powerful
Matt Brown was tried at the ensuing assizes,
and is now expiating hia orime by serving ten
years in penal servitude.
I learned afterward that Mr. Bowles proposed
to Mary Drew, who shrank from his advances
at first, but subsequently consented to become
his wi:e. They were married and went to Aus
tralia together, where, I can only hope, they are
still living happily.
HER COM lilt
BY 0. EMMA CHENEY.
“How would ‘Margaret’ do?”
“Oh, that would soon degenerate into ‘ Mag
gie ’ or ‘Madge.’
“Well, it would please George’s mother to
call tho baby ‘Jane ’ for her,” I said.
“That has the same disadvantages,” answered
Cousin Fanny, who, to tell the truth, thought
no name good enough for tbe scrap of humanity
that had come to gladden her heart.
“1 won’t have her dubbed ‘Hazel,’or ‘Maud,’
or ‘Eva,’ ” exclaimed Cousin George, coming into
tbe discussion, and both father and mother re
sented the suggestion of “Gladys” as utterly
heathenish.
It was settled at last that the baby should be
called by my name. The thought gave me real
pleasure, and Hooked forward to the day when
she should write it out for herself—“ Alice Hol
land Warren.”
Iu the meantime the child had kept on grow
ing until she was almost old enough to choose a
name for herself. In the interval ot indecision
we called her “ Dot,“ so that it now seemed hard
to change.
It was about this time that Cousin George’s
maiden aunt came unannounced, to pay a visit
of indefinite duration. To speak charitably of
Miss Chubbuck, she was peculiar. Although
she was a sore trial to us all, Fanny was too
loyal to George to complain ol his aunt, and, as
Fanny’s cousin, it did not become me to find
fault with her husband’s guest. George did
growl a little now and then, but that was his
privilege.
Oddly enough, Dot was really lond of the wo
man, who, despite her freakme’ss, was uniform
ly gentle to the child. The two would spend
whole mornings together in ths park, or Miss
Chubbuck would push the baby’s phaeton
about the streets of the shady town for hours
together, even though she called herself an in
valid. It Cousin Eva ever felt concern at the
absence ot her darling, she held her peace. Of
course, Fanny was not influenced by mercenary
or interested motives in her conduct toward
her auut. It is true Miss Chubbuck was re
puted immensely nob, and having quarreled
wiih all her other kinsfolk, it would seem
proper and right that, when the time came,
Fanny's forbearance should be rewarded.
At times tbe old woman seemed inspired
with devices for exasperating everybody who
came in contact with h'er. But her crowning
success was the avowed purpose of saddling
her own name upon the baby—not alone “ Meek
ness,’ which was her Christian name, and a sad
misnomer, but actually “Meekness Chubbuck”
—and in return the poor child was to bo made
her aunt’s sole heir. Fanny was unwilling to
vex the old soul, who was getting feeble and
infirm, so she did not say squarely that it could
never be. She only smiled, and to keep the
peace did not forbid Aunt Meekness to call the
baby “Chubby,” intending to arrange it all
her own way when occasion offered. George,
however, failed to share his wife's philosophy,
and resolved to end discussion by summary
measures.
“ Let us have a christening party, Fan, and
have it out,” he said one day, feeling especially
irritated on the subject. “h e need not give it
out, but just invite our friends for a merry
making, and have the baby christened.”
“I’m afraid it will offend Aunt Meekness,”
Fanny answered, dubiously.
“I will relieve you of all responsibility on
that score, little woman,” said George; “ but
upon my word I can't see that result in tho light
of a calamity.”
“And we could send for Doctor and Mrs Ma
ples," I interposed, knowing that Fanny would
wish her old pastor to officiate at tho baptism of
her child.
“Yes, of course,” George agreed; “Mr. Bai
ley is so newly come to this parish that he
couldn’t feel slighted, and hois so deaf ”
“I don’t suppose Mr. Bailey knows the baby
by sight even, said Fanny, trying to enter cor
dially mto the scheme which in her heart she
did not quite approve.
“ Well, well, fix all that to suit yourselves,
but mind, Fan, not one word to Aunt Meekness
about the object ot the party, for she’ll make
things lively if she gets hold of it,” and George
kissed his wife’s cheek byway of sealing the
compact.
The day was fixed, and we set about writing
our invitations. Then there was the black cake
to be made and set away to “ripen,” and the
whole house to bo freshened for the occasion.
With my own hands I made a gown for my dear
little namesake to wear. I caused to be en
graved with her name and mine a christening
bowl ot solid silver, which was an heirloom that
I dearly prized; but nothing was too good for
her who would always keep it in memory of
that happy day.
But our ancient guest liked not at all the idea
of being “overrun with company.” As soon as
the plan was broached to her, to our immense
satisfaction she expressed her intention of pay
ing a visit to an old friend in the city—neces
sarily an “old ’ friend, since her present state
ot mind precluded the possibility of making
now ones.
On the day previous to that fixed for her
journey, she took the baby on one of the long
excursions of which both were so fond. As the
morning wore on I noticed that Fanny oast
many a wistful glance down the village street
though ebe expressed no anxiety and I felt
none. It was very late when we descried Miss
Chubbuck’s green vail, which she wore in the
same fashion as when forty years before it had
carefully concealed her girlish charms from
prying eyes. By her side trotted our tired lit
tle girl, her hands full of new toys and her
flushed and happy face almost as soiled as her
frock.
“It is too bad!” exclaimed poor Fanny, as
shading her eyes with her hand, she watched
them. “ I know that child will be ill to pay for
this," she wont on, betrayed out of her usual
caution by tho sight of her pet’s demoralized
appearance.
“ Why, Aunt Meekness,” she cried, her bot
tled excitement fairly bursting its bounds
“ where have you been? I have been worried
to death about you I”
“ I am not a child, to get into mischief
Frances Warren,” replied the old woman grim
ly, and marched off without another word to her
own quarters, thereby giving “ George’s wile ”
to understand thatsbe had taken an unwarranta
ble liberty.
As a natural consequence of so much fatigue
and ill temper, the next day Miss Chubbuck was
too ill to leave her room. I for one was glad to
have her stay in it, though the prospect ot her
departure before the party was most uncertain.
Her demands upon her niece'were by no means
relaxed, but Tildy and I managed to make the
jellies and cakes and tarts, as well as loads of
other good things with which country-folk re
gale their friends on festive occasions. George
filled the great vases on tho parlor mantel with
gorgeous dahlias, and gay flowers adorned the
cottage wherever space afforded the oppor
tunity.
At length the day came. Doctor and Mrs
Maples arrived on the morning train, and it re
quired no little maneuvering to keep them from
coming in contact with Miss Chubbuck;. for
Fanny would not permit us to solicit their con
nivance at keeping our secret Luckily, al
though she was quite convalescent, Aunt Meek
ness kept her room.
1 never saw Cousin George in such spirits
He looked forward to the final move which was
to checkmate h;s aunt, and perhaps cause her
to take up her abode elsewhere. But if he
dared to hope so much, he never ventured to
liint his inhospitable wishes to his wile, who
was faithful to her guest under every emer
geuqy. When the company had arrived, Fan
l egged her husband to ask Aunt Meekness to
c»ime in, at least to the christening.
“There can be no barm done now,” gfa,
coaxed, when he stoutly resisted her entreaty,
“ and she will leel so hurt if wo do not tell lior
beforehand.”
Thus overpersuaded, George yielded—not
with a very good grace—and reluctantly made
his way to the chamber of his unsuspecting
aunt.
“ Aunt Meekness,” he began, “ we have a lit
tle surprise lor our friends to-night, and Fanny
thought you ought to enjoy it with us. Aren’t
you able to come out a little while ?”
“I hate surprises," she replied, uncompro
misingly.
“Well,” George answered, with a ieeling of
relief, as he afterward confessed, “you can do
as you please about it, but wo are going to have
the baby baptized. Dr. Maples has come up
from tho city and everything is arranged.”
“ You need not have taken all that trouble,
George Warren.” she said, coldly, “lor I had
her christeued decently long ago.”
There was a dead silence for a moment, and
then the woman went ou :
“I got tired of dilly-dallying, so I took her
over to the church, and’ Mr. Bailey soon settled
the matter.”
“Did he dare baptize my child without my
authority ?” roared Gleorge,
“ I said nothing at all about you. He was so
deaf that I could not make him hear a word I
said; so I wrote the name on the fly-leaf of a
prayer-book, and be baptized her without any
words. I cannot abide the fool names that girls
have nowadays, and to put a stop to any more
nonsense I named her ‘ Meekness Chubbuck ’ —
no more, no less.”
George was speechless. Grave doubts of his
aunt’s sanity crossed his mind. Fanny had en
tered in time to hear the concluding sentence.
Putting the sentence, “I named her Meekness
Chubbuck,” with tho look of awful wrath on
her husband’s face, she guessed the truth. Fear
for Miss Chubbuck’s personal safety alone kept
her from swooning. After another ominous
pause, George left the room precipitately.
“ That’s all the thanks I get for my trouble,”
said Aunt Meekness, sharply. “Of course, I
expect to leave my prop’ty where my name
goes, and I did look for some gratitude after
making myself down-sick to do a favor for
other folks’ children. But that is the way of
tho world I” she sighed, rooking to and iro dis
consolately.
Fanny was touched, and rallying her own
sinking heart, she replied, sweetly :
“ Wo do appreciate your kind motives, Aunt,
and George' did not mean to be ungracious.
You know his heart was set upon calling our
little girl for Cousin Alice—and —and—oh, we
do thank you for all you had in your heart for
the baby I” sobbed poor Fan, fairly breaking
down.
“ Humph !” snorted the angry godmother.
Fanny returned to her guests, pale with sup
pressed emotion. I, who knew where she had
been, guessed that there had been a scene, but
was unprepared for the truth, when Cousin
George whispered to her :
“ She’ll leave this house to-night, or I am not
master in it I”
“Ob, no, dear! she will go herself, soon;
and you will bo the sin of disrespect to
ago.”
“ Age be hanged 1 I'll teach her to repay our
hospitality in this way I”
“ But, George, she meant well. What possi
ble advaatage could accrue to her from giving
her name and h»r money to our ohild ?”
“ Fan, 1 do believe yofl are glad of the whole
thing in your heart, for the sake of that con
founded property I”
“Oh, George I” and poor Fanny’s tone was
conclusive evidence ot her non-oomplicity in the
plot.
Scarcely had Fanny left Miss Chubbuck when
Doctor Maples was summoned to tho invalid’s
chamber, where tho whole story was rehearsed
from the standpoint of a martyr. Indeed, tlie
evening was not half over before the whole
company was confidentially made aware of it,
with the understanding that after all it was an
arrangement with Cousin Fanny, for the con
sideration that her child should inherit her
aunt's property. It was a bitter disappoint
ment, but there was no redress.
After repeated postponements, Miss Chub
buck’s journey was finally abandoned. Under
Fanny’s gentle ministrations, she rallied again.
Her tender love for tho little girl whom she had
so wickedly wronged was her one redeeming
virtue, and lor that alone, I believe, her neph
ew retrained from ordering her to leave the
house, which had been so sunny before she en
tered it.
The following Summer I crossed the sea. In
Fanny’s frequent letters she always piously
mentioned that Miss Chubbuck was not so well
as usual, or perhaps more comfortable, as the
case might be—as if I cared to know I At length
there came an interval of silence, which gave
me groat anxiety. Then followed a brief note
from Cousin George, which ran thus :
“ Dear Cousin Alice : Fanny is used up.
Aunt Meekness died on the 9th, insolvent. Our
little girl received in her name the only inherit
ance which her great-aunt had to bestow!
Though, to do tho poor body justice, I really
believe she was not aware of her financial ruin
until a short time before her death. Fanny is
so terribly cut up about the whole thing, poor
girl, that I cannot tell her it serves her right.
Can you not como home soon ? Fanny says you
never misjudged her. It would cure her to see
you, and the baby misses yon sadly, as well as
“ Your Cousin, George.”
I did not need a second invitation. That was
long ago. I still occupy Aunt Meekness’s pret
ty room, and Chubbie calls me “ Aunty,” but I
flatter myself I am not tolerated for my “ prop
erty.”— Chicago Saturday Herald.
ANTiDOIFFOB CANCER.
A REMEDY WITHIN 'tHE REACH
OF ALL.
(from the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.)
About thirty years ago, a woman belonging to
tho middle walks of life, suffering with cancer,
was pronounced beyond their skill by the phy
sicians of Shrewsbury Infirmary, England, the
tumor being in such close proximity to the
jugular vein that, rather than risk the imperil
ling of her life, they deemed it best not to un
dertake so grave an operation.
Straightway after this announcement was
' made, she returned to her home, which was
three miles from Oswestey, the nearest railway
station in the county of Montgomery, North
Wales. Here she became a greater sufferer,
when one day she bethought herself of a neigh
bor, whom she soon found, and with all the
eloquence of one enthralled by an implacable
foe, she appealed to her sympathy. “If it were
possible,” she implored, “do, do something to
assuage my pain.”
With that tendernes land willingness charac
teristic of every true and noble woman to allay
her sister’s many pains, tins frieud, for she
prftved a friend in need and deed, forthwith
sent her boys (one of whom is our informant)
to gather what in the United States is known as
sheep sorrel; by tbe people of England as
“ sour leaf or the cuckoo plant;” in the Welsh
language, to tbe people of North Wales, as
“ dail surlon y gog.” To this timely opportu
nity, and the efficacy of this herb as an anti
dote for cancer, this, our sufferer, is in a large
measure indebted for her health and life to-day,
while not tho slightest vestige ot the hitherto
unconquerable disease is to be found.
Tho leaves were wrapped in brown paper bo
tight as to make the pack impervious to air.
This package was then placed beneath an open
grate, covered with the hot ashes of the same.
When sufficiently cooked it was removed, and in
as hot a state as possible and not burn, it Was
now applied, the leaves being in direct contact
with the ulcer, which was firmly held to the
part affected by a linen handkerchief.
Strange to say, at the expiration of one month
the tumor came away and has not since ap
peared. For the first four days the pain was
most excruciating, but gradually decreased as
it became loosened. Thera is much to be said
in favor of this method over the knife. The
nature of its drawing power in tho form of poul
tice, though at first very severe, still is gradual
and sure, while new blood rushes into the
vacuum, caused by removal, thus serving as a
fitting helpmeet lor aiding and stimulating na
ture's efforts, and in the meantime the arteries
which feed this foil destroyer are given a greater
impulse to move rapidly, flow healthy and
strengthening the weaker parts as fast as it
egresses. In this connection it is to be observed
that this method has none of the accompanying
after-weakening effects as caused by loss of
blood so frequently exhibited under the opera
tion of the knife, while the chances of a thor
ough extirpation are far more sanguine as to a
thread remaining than that of a surgical opera
tion, which many fear and object to.
For those parte not admitting of poultice we
submit another formula for the same herb as
applied by this same benefactress in somewhat
different cases.
A piece of flat iron or steel is obtained with at
least one bright and smooth face. On this the
leaves are placed, which, in turn, is placed on
top of the stove or within the oven until the
leaves are thoroughly cooked, whence they are
removed and spread on a piece of linen in tho
same way as any other home-made plaster.
When cool enough, with sufficient heat not to
burn, it is then applied, and, our informant
states, was productive of the same beneficent
result.
A
WHO INSISTS THAT ALL NON
SENSE MUST BE STOPPED.
There is a town in Idaho struggling for fame,
called Beef Gap, a unique and forcible name.
They have just elected as City Marshal a gen
tleman who is commonly known as “Onion
Bill.” The aforesaid Bill is no slouch. He is a
brick of gold. On assuming the duties of his
office he issued the following highly interesting
pronunciamento :
On and after this date there will be in thia
town—
No more compelling people to drink when
they don’t feel like it.
No more shooting of plug hats.
No more drinking of whisky out of bottles
when the bars are open.
No more noisy deviltry.
Any man riding or driving a horse into a pub- 1
lie bar will be shot.
Any man raking down the pot at poker, with- •
out the cards to back it up, will be shot dead.
It is the determination of the new adminis
tration to usher in an era of reform, and all
good citizens will array themselves on the side
of the law. All others will be turned over to ■
the coroner.
It will be observed that Onion Bill makes the
undue raking in of a pot a higher misdemeanor
than riding a horse into a barroom. There will
be no more fooling around in Beef Gap.
Hero is a very pathetic story of
THE BARBER’S WOOING.
“O Barbara!” tho barber sighed,
•' This scissor time to speak;
If you won’t be my hone true bride
I'll die without a squeak.
•« O Dan Draff, don’t,” the po’made screamed,
" Do such a wig-head act;
It would be barber-ous. I dreamed.
Of you,” she smiled with tact.
** Look oup and brush your tears; 1
O comb and be a man;
Lot’s soap I'll be your bride some day.
" I will, but if,” cried Dan.
«• You razor hope you will dispel,
There’ll beard death, you'll see;
And if there’s scrape on my door-boll
My chair will empty be.”
«'I do not shampoor fellow,” said
Miss Barbara, perplexed;
Oil though when your first wife is dead,
You’ll quickly cry for ‘ Next 1’ ”
The young lady was right in getting fright
ened at
THE HORRIBLE THOUGHT.
They wore out sleigh-riding together, and their
thoughts and conversation turned on the subject
which usually agitates the minds of young people
under those circumstances.
•‘George, dear,” she murmured, "will you always
love me ?”
‘•Yes, indeed, I will,” he replied, ‘‘even after
we're married. And will you always retain your
present feelings toward mo?”
•• Always, George.”
"Ah, there are so many things that might happen
which would make your affection less warm. Sup
pose I should meet with some accident —one which
would leave me disfigured for life ?”
•• It would never make the slightest difference.”
•• But suppose I should meet with a railroad acci
dent (which, being, a traveling man, I am very likely
to do) and lose a leg or an arm, would .”
‘•An arm, George, an arm 1 Oh, dearest, let us
talk of something else.”
And George dropped the subject and proceeded to
demonstrate that up to date his arms were just as
good as any to be found.
Carl Dander has recovered somewhat from
tho effects of tho swindles which have been per
petrated on him, and he has taken to philoso
phizing about matters in general,
YOOST LIKE IT VAS IN SHERMAN.
Dor poor houses vhas full of peoples who pelief
dot to-morrow vhill bring ’em luck.
No man can buy der constitutional rights of
another, but maypo you can lick him und make
him afraid to exercise ’em.
Der older I vhas der more I pelief dot young folks
vhas pecoming wery foolish und doan’ appreciate
sometings.
If I like to get oop a quarrel between neighbors I
doan* hint aboudt riches or greatness or intelli
gence. I shuet make oudt dot one woman’s bonnet
cost der most.
If somepody vhas porn mil der feeling dot dis
world vhas created for him he vhill shlip oop al
most eafory day. No man takes oop more space as
four cabbages.
It vhas awful good if you can forgif your ene
mies, but some mans haf a great deal more respect
for you if you vhas a hardt kicker.
Charity vhas a great and good thing, but vhen we
make oafercoats for der shildren of Afrlc* and doan’
buy some flannels for our own family mayps wo
hadt better shtop a leedle.
When a poy vhas whistling he can’t fix oop some
vhay to shteal my grapes or carry off my gate.
It has taken some men fifty years of hardt work
to roach a position in which dey shall haf der abuse
of der public for der remainder of deir days.
People should cultivate a happy expression of
countenance. If you meet a man mit a grin on his
face you doan’ suspect dot he hadt a fight mit his
wife only fife minutes pefore, or dot his furniture
vhas to be sold py a shattel mortgage.
Go a leetle slow. Nopody can boil eggs In cold
water. It vhas petter to be at der tail-end of der
procession dan to shlip down at der front and let
somepody vhalk all oafer you.
I vhas took notice dot eafery mans haf his weak
ness. Before we pitch into him pecause he falls, lot
us consider how it vhas dot we shtand oop.
I doan’ pring oop some shildren myself, but I can
tell my friends oxactly how dey should pring oop
deirs.
If I want some advice I go mit a lawyer und pay
for it, und der more de sharge me for it, der more
apt I vhas to pelief it vhas good.
No one will deny that the young gentleman
was right when he thought
HE REGRETTED BEING PRESENT.
Two friends in a car were speaking of a brilliant
wedding which had taken place at Judge Bogley’s
the night before, when one of them said:
•• I had an invitation, but did not avail myself of
it. I regret now that I did not go.”
A man who had taken no part in the conversation
remarked:
••I attended a wedding at the judge’s once, and
regret that I did go.”
•• Were you 'not well treated ?”
“Oh, yes.”
“ Why, then, did you regret having gone ?”
“Because, on the occasion, I married one of the
judge’s daughters,”
Tho Lewioton (Mo.) Journal relates this very
HAPPY RETORT BY A YANKEE.
When Mr. William Atkinson, the farmer philoso
pher of .Somerset county, was about to start on his
mission to Quebec, in the interest of the Wiscasset
and Kennebec Railroad scheme, he said to Gov.
Bodwell:
“ Mr. Bodwell, had I better put on a tall hat and
stick up, or go just as I am, in this woolen shirt
and paper collar?”
•‘ Go just as you are,” replied Mr. Bod well. “It
isn’t the clothes we want to send, but the man un
der ’em.”
So Mr. Atkinson wore his every-day clothes to
Quebec. And at Augusta, Tuesday, in his flannel
Shirt and paper collar and slouch fiat, this wonder
ful man, with a head more crammed with miscel
laneous facts and odd conceits than any other head
in Maine, entertained me greatly with an account
of his stay in quaint old Quebec. He told me how
j he dined with the titled aristocracy of the city and
handed their fine ladies out to dinner, in his flannel
' shirt and paper collar—how he discussed poetry
and scenes in ioreign lands with the literati, and
1 astonished the doctors of divinity with what h©
’ had picked up about theology.
Mr. Atkinson is a man with an iron memory. He
can quote passages from tho poets, tell you the
date of any historical event, or demonstrate a prob
lem Of Euclid with equal facility. He acquired it
, , all by sitting on tb<? dye-pot by fire-irons of his
mother’s kitchen, and by burning the oil of night
in his own farm library. The mental possessions
1 of the Maine farmer, in his flannel shirt and paper
collar, must have taken by surprise the learning of
university-filled Quebec.
But the best part of Mr. Atkinson’s narrative was
i his dramatic story of his visit to the citidel.
i "An officer,” said he, “detailed a man to show
me around, and he took me everywhere. Noticing
a small black cannon, half hidden by the snow, as
I was about to go, I said, in iun, * I guess I’ll take
it away with mo.’
" 'Go look at the inacription on the breech,’ said
the soldier, laughing.
“I looked and read :
•••Taken at the battle of Banker Hill, Jane 17,
1775.’
“I saw the soldier had mo. It stirred my blood,
and I wanted to make a fit reply. I read the in
scription over again to gain time. Tears came into
my eyes.
“‘Young man,’l said to him, ‘you’ve got the
cannon, but we’ve got Bunker Hill.’”
Who could blame thia girl for being indig
nant at
HER LOVER’S WANT OF APPRECIATION.
I kissed her hand. She slapped my check,
The blow came sharp and quick.
Her eyes snapped fire. She did not speak.
My blood grew hot and thick.
••What do you mean ?” I asked, enraged,
"We’re all alone here, and
You know quite well that we’re engaged,
Then why not kiss your hand ?”
“I do detest a man,” she snapped,
••Who'll kiss my finger-tips.
In love's ways one should be more apt—
Else what’s the use of lips ?”
Dakota must be a terrible place to live in if
this story is reliable. It ie vouched for by the
San Bernardino (Cal.) Times as being
SOLIDLY THUE.
A Times reporter struck a real, live Dakota man
yesterday, iresh from Blizzardom. The D. M. was
thawing himself out in the sun in front of the St
Charles Hotel, and remarked, as the reporter came
along; •• Got a reg’lar Dakota boom here, haven’t
you ? I reckon I’ll invest in a number of town
sites. A fellow can make genuine sales here. Back
in Dakota we map out stupendous schemes, get
lithographs of an imaginary town and sell lots in
the Winter. You see we lay out a town on the prai
rie somewhere, and then let out a lot of bogus con
tracts for putting up big hotels and stores, and for
supplying lumber, brick, men. teams, etc., and then
we tell would-be buyers what a scene of activity
there will be when the snow goes off. Of course
every one is anxious to buy a lot at four hundred
dollars (two hundred dollars down) before the
snow melts, and so the lots are disposed of. Of
course the hotels and such things are never put up
•• Why, bless you, my boy, the acreage of wheat
would be tripled in Dakota if it wasn’t for the fact
that our barren, blizzard-kissed prairies are laid off
into town lots, the only improvements on which are
a few surveyors’stakes. Cold? Did you ask if it
was cold? Why, only two weeks ago I raised my
window to throw my wad of tobacco out and the
wind carried my hat out. It cost six dollars, but it
was too darned cold to go after it. Suddenly a
bright idea struck mo. I raised the window and
took a pitcher of water and poured it on to the hat.
What good did that do? Don’t you see? The
stream froze solid into along icicle, which I drew
up, band over hand, and got my hat. Fact.”
"Pretty good scheme,” innocently remarked the
reporter.
"Good scheme? Naw! I’ve been kicking my
self ever since about it. Why, sir, I had that win
dow open just two minutes and a half, and in that
time enough cold came in to freeze up and ruin oyer
S4OO worth of choice plants I had in the house. I
got so mad that I came to California, and I’m going
to stay here.”
And the Dakota man gave a sigh of relief as he
felt himself to make sure that the ice had all melted
out of his blood vessels.
The following incident is related by the San
Francisco Chronicle, That paper is of the opin
ion that
GOOD MOTHERS WOULD LIKE TO READ IT.
She goes to school, and she belongs to an educa
tional family of prominence, who have lately
moved from San Francisco for ofllcial convenience
So she has had to go to a new school. The first day
she found that, contrary to her experience, boys '
and girls were together in this school. That of
fended her, and when she went home she com
plained.
■‘ Mamma, that’s not a good school. I don’t think
I’ll like to stay there.” .
“Why?”
" There are boys and girls all together there. It
isn’t pleasant.”
•• Well, ruy dear, try it a little anyway.”
The next day she came home in a better humor
" Do you like the new school any better ?” ' 1
“Oh. yes, mamma. The teacher has put the love- 1
Host little boy next to me. a lovely little bov *'
I th irk I shall like the J ’ j.
The third day she came home in the wildest of
spirits, beaming all over.
" Oh, mamma ! I know all the boys In the school
now!”
This is one of those sad stories that good mothers
like to read, so lam told, and I’ve no reason to
doubt it.
The wife was perfectly right in being in
dignant at
WILLIAM’S MISTAKE.
“Ob, you good-for-nothing wretch!” exclaimed
Big William's wife, as she reached her hand out of
bed and felt for Vile cradle to see if the baby was
there.
•• Whash 'er matter?” murmured Big, as he
turned in his sleep.
"Matter enough!” Ough, you t Wake up and
go down stairs and bring baby up here this
minute.”
“ Did bring him up. •’ He’ah in the cradle.”
“No such thing. You’ve drank too much hard
cider. You wrapped the Christmas turkey in
baby’s blankets and rocked it to sleep in the
cradle, you wretch, and baby is down stairs on the
sofa catching cold.”
SCINTILLATIONS.
“ The course of true love never runs
smooth,” so we may depend upon always having
friction matches.
Before the wedding day she was dear
and he was her treasure, but afterward she became
dearer and he treasurer.
A credulous English paper gravely
asserts that western grasshoppers are put up in this
country for French sardines.
An ordinary small boy is never so
happy as when he is standing under a safe that is
being hoisted to the fourth story.
Neal Dow is lecturing on “How to
Gat Ahead.” We suppose he recommends a combi
nation of Bass ale and Rhino wino.
Palmistry is not such a new craze; we
have known mon to sit around a table for hours try
ing to find out about each other’s hands.
Whitrock gave up the coal business to
co into tho train-robbing industry. The transition
was easy, from a light-weightman to highwayman.
Fannie—-“ You forgot my birthday,
Jack.” Jack—“l thought it was on the first of
April.” Fannie—" Many persons think so when
they see my husband.”
'Hie pen may be mightier than the
sword, but the present condition of affairs in
Europe goes to show that the machine-gun has the
call on the type-writer.
“Yes,” says Jenkina, “I am one of
those fellows that can drink or Ist it alone. When
I am where it is I can drink; when I am where it is
not I can let it alone.”
She—“ Yes, we had a splendid time
last Summer. Four other Vassar girls and I took a
tramp through the Adlrondacks.” He—" Did the
tramp have a good time ?”
“My dear,” said a testy wife to her
husband, "I never stand upon "ceremony.” “It
would be bad for ceremony if you did,” said hub
by, glancing furtively at her No. s’s o
It is estimated that thirty thousand
women Could ind husbands Inside of a fortnight in
Wyoming and Montana Territories, and why the
procession doesn’t move is a mystery.
Employer—“ James, here is a letter
for you from ths Dead Letter office.” James, in
agony—" Then it’s from my son. He’s bin sick for
weeks, and I’ve bin expectin' this every day.”
A Chicago business man worth half a
million dollars married tho female cashier in his
store the other day. The manner in which she got
thirteen cents for a shilling every time hit him.
This is the season that inspires the
red-nosed man with confidence. He can blame the
warmth of color on the weather, and those who
don't know his habits will sometimes believe him.
“Does hanging prevent murder ?” is
a question which agitates an Eastern State. Yon
bet it does. Cases are very rare where a man com
mits murder after he has been hung once or twice.
“I’m afraid it’s not genuine,” saida
lady to a shopman. "Oh. yes, it is, madam,” re
plied the polite gentleman. " All our camel-hair
shawls are made of pure silk, direct from the
worm.”
The new City and County Clerk at
San Francisco has erected the following sign:
"Lady applicants for position will please weep in
the ante-room, as the clerk suffers greatly from
damp feet,
“Did you ever try a toboggan ?”
asked Tom Reed of Hon. Frank Lawlor. "No,'’ re
plied Frank, scornfully. " I don't believe in them
fancy drinks. I always take mine plain und old
' fashioned.”
Science says that a body weighing 100
■ pounds on earth would weigh two tons on the
planet Jupiter. Just think of the sufferings of an
i inhabitant of Jupiter who had eaten a piece of
wedding cake !
Mrs. Mulvaney—Arrah, Jamesy, phy
do yez put two thermoney tors forninstthe shtore ?”
Shaunossy—Bo gobs, Missus Mulvaney, wan av
them is to tell how hot it is, an’ tho other to tell
j how cowld it is.
“Have you ever sat upon an inquest?”
asked the coroner of a cowboy. “ Betcber life I
hev, stranger,” was the ready answer. “And what
kind of a verdict did you bring in ?” " A charge of
murder against the doctor.”
The cashier in a business house in
New York finds that the fpllpwing notice, posted in
front of hia deak. serves a useful purpose: •‘Nover
L address your conversation to a person j U
adding figures, There ja nothing eq Seal as an
adder.”
6 Mrs. Mulhooly (t<j drug store clerk)—
“ That porous pblaater tho. faz sold me for me ould
man was nigh killin’ hint. Ho couldn't get tne
’ tooth av him t'roo it at all till I fried it, an’ thin it
1 wa’n’t touch Uhderor, an' he's far from well in
■ shplto av it.”
i Woman (to tramp)—“ You might saw
; a little wood for that nice dinner. Tramp (reproach
fully)—“ Madam, you ought not to throw tempta
tion in the way of a poor Woman—“Temp
I tation ?” Tramp—•• Yes, madam. If I were to saw
some wood, the chances are that I would cirry off
the saw. I’m an honest man now, and I want to
> stay bo.”
AGED BEAUTIES.
; —
i Historical Women who Were Fascinat
; ing Though Not Young.
f (From the American Register.)
History is full of tbs accounts of the fascina
tion of women who were no longer young.
Thus, Helen of Troy, was over forty when she
’ perpetrated the most famous elopement on ree
, ord, and, as tho siege of Troy lasted a decade,
, she could not have been verv juvenile when the
ill-fortune ot Paris restored her to her husband,
who is reported to have received her with un
questioning love and gratitude. Pericles wed
ded the courtesan Aspasia when she was thirty
. six, and yet she afterward, for thirty years or
more, wielded an undiminiahed reputation for
beauty. Cleopatra was past thirty when Antony
i fell under her spell, which never lessened until
her death, nearly ton years after, and Livia was
, thirty-three when she won tho heart of Augus
tus, over whom she maintained her ascendency
to the last.
Turning to more modern history, where it is
possible to verify dates more accurately, we
have the extraordinary Do Poictiere, who was
thirty-six when Henry H.—then Duke of Or
leans, and just halt her age—became attached
to her, and she was held as the first lady and
tho most beautiful woman at court, up to the
period of the monarch’s death and the accession
to power of Catherine de Modicis.
Anne of Austria was thirty-eight when she
was described as the handsomest Queen of
Europe, and when Buckingham and Bichelieu
wore jealous admirers.
Ninon de I’Enclos, tha most celebrated wit
and beauty of her day, was the idol of three
generations of the golden youth of Franco, and
she was seventy-two when the Abbe de Beraia
fell in love with her.
True it is that in tho case of this lady a rare
combination of culture, talents and personal
attractions endowed their possessor seemingly
with the gifts of eternal youth. Louis XIV.
married Mme. de Maintenon when she was
forty-three years of age. Catherine IT., of
Bussia, was thirty-three when she seized the
empire of Russia and captivated tho
young General Orloff. Up to the time of her
death, at sixty-seven, she seemed to have re
tained tho same bewitching powers, for the
lamentations were heartfelt among all those who
had ever known her personally. Mlle. Mars,
the celebrated French tragedienne, only at
tained the zenith of her beauty and power be
tween forty and forty-five. At that period the
loveliness of her hands and arms especially was
celebrated throughout Europe. The famous
Mme. liecamier was thirty-eight when Barras
was ousted from power, and she was without
dispute declared to be the most beautiful
woman in Europe, which rank she held for
fifteen years.
ADVICE* TO MEN.
SECOND WINNING OF YOUR FIRST
WIFE.
(From Good Housekeeping.)
If ever your wife’s honeymoon devotion to
you turns cheerless, like the old of the moon,
don’t return to your honeymoon treatment ot
her; don’t rush home from business at the first
possible moment with a basket oi choice fruit,
and meet her with a kiss and a caress; don’t i
compliment her taste in dress, the neatness of i
the sitting-room, nor the appetizing air she has '
breathed in the dining-room. I
Put away these boyish habits, and command '
her devotion by bringing home on your face the
oloud of a day’s business ; be late about it, too.
Then try to find some new fault in her, and
don’t let her iorget one of the old set. Taboo
her virtues, and praise other women’s. Call
her “you,” and if she’s hard at work from six
A. M. to ten P. M., growl because she hires the
washing done ; and if she dare ask for money,
insist on knowing what she did with the twenty
five cents you “ gave ”her last week. And then,
if she dosen’t prove familiar with ths points
and pedigree of your party's candidate for Con
gress, laugh at her, and tell her how stupid it
would be to let such disinterested creatures ,
vote 1 i
Don’t count sixteen hours a day for you and '
the children anything, but wonder why she
doesn’t read the daily papers aud the reviews,
and take an interest in politics, art, music, sci
ence, history and tho ’• labor” question. Let
her split tho kindlings, build the fire, tend the
toetlnng baby and broil tho steak ; then, when
she cau gat yon up to breakfast, you eit down
•eour and grumble till she cries, finding the
steak either over-done or under-done, it vou !
have le foU U'lJtU for it, * I
If all this “devotion” on your part fails to
twine her arms about your neck, lind a lot of
fault with her to the children, and, turning your
back to her in the evening, perorate yo ir efforts
for that day with a glowing eulogy to the beauty,
taste, culture aud housekeeping of Smith’s
wife.
Now, husband, what further excuse can you
have lor a chilling time at your own fireside ?
EXPOSED BIS TRICK.
AN INCIDENT IN PERSIA.
The art of medicine, among most Oriental na
tions, is in a state of very feeble infancy. As ia
natural, -ignorance is supplemented by quack
ery, but the latter is not always so readily de
tected as in the following incident, told by Dr.
Wills, an Englishman residing in Persia. This
physician had accepted an invitation to dine at
the house of Mirza M Khan, a wealthy gran-
dee. The meal had hardly begun when one of
the guests, 8 Khan, entered upon a long list
ot his ailments, for the benefit oi the English
physician.
It is the custom in Persia to consult a medical
man wherever one is met. This would-be pa
tient finally stated that, for the relief of lum
bago, ho had been in the habit of inserting a
needle beneath the flesh of his back every morn
ing, but that, on the previous day, it had disap
peared under the skin.
The physician, after examining the flesh which
8 Khan had uncovered, told him that it was
probable that the needle had been lost, and had
never been in his flesh at all. At this the patient
was most indignant.
“Ah, you Europeans !” ho cried; “you will
never believe. Why, Agha Ali, tho surgeon,
says it is there, and he is going to extract it by
the mouse?*
“By the what?”
“ The mouse. Don’t you understand that ?’*
“ No. What mouse ?”
“ Ah, science ! Ah, Europeans I Ho doesn’t
understand tho action of the mouse !”
A chorus of explanations now brought out
tho sunposod fact that a live mouse being
bound on the back ot the patient, the needle,
by some mysterious process, would leave his
flesh and be found in that of tho mouse.
“ What kind of a needlo wits it?” asked tha
Englishman.
The confidential valet produced a packet of
ordinary sewing-needles, declaring that no dif
, ferent ones were over used for that purpose.
Presently the native surgeon mado his ap
pearance, and after listening carefully for the
> needle with anold sthethoscope, the wrong end
of which he applied to tho general's person,
> declared thal tho bit of steel was deeply seated.
t “ But, pleaso God,” said he, “ by my science,
> and by the help of the sainted martyrs, Hous
sein and Hassan, I shall remove it.’’
Ho carefully opened a box, and disclosed a
poor little mouse tied by tho feet with silken
' threads. The animal, on being touched, gave a
squeak ot pain. That sound was a revelation
■ to the Englishman. »-
L “ Ah,” he said, “ this is, indeed, a wonderful
1 thing 1 Agha Ali, the surgeons of Persia have
1 in you a burning and shining light; but the trick
is old.” At this the native turned pale. “Ob-
* serve, my friends. Presto, pass ! 8 Khan,
i the needle has left you, and is now in the poor
■ mouse’s body!”
Agha Ah sprang up, and would have rushed
, away, but he was seized and held, while his box
j was opened. A needle was indeed there, pre
t viously slipped under the loose skin of tho
mouse’s back. It was compared with the
others in the Khan’s packet, and found to bo
' half an inch too short.
j That tho patient was furious, need scarcely
be said. He threatened the frightened surgeon
with punishment in full measure, and it was only
1 at ths Englishman’s intercession that the cul
prit was spared.
ALL FOR CHABITY.
* BUT DOING IT WITH HER HUS-
BAND’S MONEY.
; (D’om the San Francisco Chronicle.)
“ Wbore did you got that watch ?” said her
1 husband, aa she oateutatioualy pulled out a
1 watch aud looked at it.
, “I bought it.”
“ A Chriatmaa present
“No, I bought it for myself. I oouldn t help
1 it. I couldn’t see a poor family starve, and I
■ bought tho woman’a watch.”
“Juat like you,” be said. “You’re always
) doing something kind—with my money.”
a “ You’r» not mad, John, are you
i “No. Let me look at it. What did you give
1 for it ?”
“ Forty doliara.”
r “Forty dollars and the husband began ox
’ amining it.
v “I’ll tell yon how it happened. I was paas
l ing along the street and there was an auction
going on in a atore.”
’ “An auction. Oh!”
j “ Yea, I waa listening and looking, and as I
t stood there a poor, distressed man came
I He pulled out this watch and he aakoJ **•* “
tioneer if he’d auction it for
, wife and lamily ~.m. He said hie
1 old familv ' -o starving and thia waa an
1 VV-” - -’eirloom and be wanted to sell it.
>■ -u, the auctioneer bo said he’d sell it, aud ho
u put it up, and all they’d bid for it was $7. The
n poor follow began to cry. ‘lts worth sloo,’ said
he,- ‘ won’t somebody give more than $7 for it ?
I can't sell it for that. I’ve bad an offer of $45.’
. And I got mad and sorry for the poor man, and
e I bid SB, and somebody bid 19, and I bid $lO,
t and finally they got it up to S4O, and I bought it.
0 I’oor fellow I Tho man went olf -quite relieved
and happy, and 1 felt so glad that I’d done a
good deed at a bargain."
' “ Yes, the poor chap was relieved. I don’t
2 doubt it. This watch is worth $1.75, and that
was a mock auction, aud that distressed-looking
, man waa a capper lor the establishment. He
j does that twenty times a day.”
a “Oh, John!”
"Just like yon, my dear. Always doing
something stupid—with my money.”
. Humphreys’"
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5 Dysentery, Griping, Bilious Colio 25
« Cholera Morbus, Vomiting 25
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3 17iPiles, Blind or Bleeding 50
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